


How to Make the Gnomes Blush

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [55]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bad Puns, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gardens & Gardening, Ice Bucket Challenge, Puns & Word Play, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, i still remember it, remember when hiddleston did the als ice bucket challenge?, very very very well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is back home in London after filming Crimson Peak. He's been missing his girlfriend, Abigail, and feeling exceptionally affectionate after months away. </p><p>This is based on Hiddleston's ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, and how he gets warm after being doused with ice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Make the Gnomes Blush

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right before Tom and Abby get engaged (In His Kiss - Epilogue). 
> 
> There are a lot of references to previous one shots. If you’re confused by anything, please don’t hesitate to ask

**How to Make the Gnomes Blush**

I whistled down from my perch in our bedroom window above the garden as soon as Luke shut off the camera. My boyfriend stood, drenched in ice water, his white t-shirt clinging to him like a second skin. The outline of his torso very clearly defined, with all the creases where his muscles rippled underneath, his chest rising and falling with the shock of cold on his skin. His nipples hardened under the icy water trickling down his body, and I couldn’t help myself, I whistled like a bloke on a construction site to a bird in a red dress and heels walking by, her frock waving in the breeze Marilyn Monroe style.

“Looking good, baby,” I complimented, taking in every heaving inch of him, his skin raised in gooseflesh at the temperature of the water.

Glancing up at me with that wolfish gaze, Tom smiled at me, his tongue lapping at the water dripping down his face. “Come down from there, Abby.”

I giggled, watching as Luke studiously retrieved the two buckets and checking that the video recorded properly and my boyfriend flicked more water from his hands and arms. “No, I like it in our bedroom. It’s dry in here.” I was lying, of course. My panties, Tom’s favorite color of solid blue, were probably just as wet as he was, doused with fluid from my body at watching the muscles of his abs beneath that t-shirt. My beautiful man looked positively scrumptious in his tousled state, and then he ran his fingers through his hair – I damn near bit my lower lip off from the show of those chiseled abs and arms. I may have squeaked, and nearly jumped from the window to get to him.

“You should take this challenge, baby. It’s  _refreshing_.” There was a note in his tone that he was thinking far dirtier thoughts, something that defied the word refreshing.

“Someone didn’t nominate me,” I retorted smartly, pushing back with as much as he gave. “And it’s no fun playing with yourself.”

Tom had been home from filming High Rise all of two days, and we’d spent most of his time back in bed. Okay, that was a lie too, it wasn’t always our bed. I’m not sure what had changed with Tom’s libido since he’d been away, but I wasn’t complaining about his increased need for me. He’d taken me on every available surface in our flat and his drive for me didn’t seem to be waning in the 48 hours that he’d been home. He was always exceptionally amorous after weeks away, just as much as I would hang on him like a coat, but this was different.

Maybe it was the promise of working together again. The pieces had fallen into place just perfectly so he could step into the role recently vacated opposite me. It was going to be a quick two month gig, before he was off again to film something or other. I kept losing track since it changed so often, with contracts and negotiations, and I was already worrying about my next play with one Benedict Cumberbatch. We were about to start rehearsals the next day.

The dark look he shot me in response to that reply spoke volumes of the trysts we’d been indulging since he got home.

Changing the subject before he could get me under ice cold water, I said loudly, “I’m so proud of you, Tom.” I didn’t miss the slight puff up in his chest at my compliment. “You’re a good man.”

“For accepting the challenge or for other things?” His long fingers brushed absently at his damp hair, before he shook like a dog to rid himself of the excess water.

Luke tsked loudly behind him, disgusted with our banter within earshot of him.

Rolling my eyes at Luke, I answered, “For making Benedict do it. I’d like to be the one pouring the ice on him.”

Smirking up at me and licking more of the water away with his talented tongue, Tom nodded knowingly. “I’ll ring him and let him know you’re available. He might not trust you though. You’re more likely to dunk his head in the water and hold him down than pour the water over him.”

Luke tapped Tom on the shoulder to bring his attention back to the video and clear it for social media consumption. Before Actor Tom reviewed, Boyfriend Tom requested, “Abby, love, bring me a towel, please.”

“What’s it worth to you, Hiddleston?”

That tongue slipped out between his lips and suggestively tipped his upper lip, that coy move that meant he was taking the mickey. Only with me, it was far more lascivious than teasing me. He fully intended to use that tongue, and I was only too prepared to receive it, whatever lashing he had in mind. Those tight muscles of his chest beneath that wet cotton were begging to be stroked as his tongue promised even more debauchery. “Baby, you know I’m good for it.” He winked at the innuendo, running his tongue over his lips.

Luke complained, “Can you two possibly stuff it until I clear out?”

I quickly fetched a big fluffy white towel for him and met up with him in the back garden while his publicist played back the footage. Instead of taking the towel, Tom pulled me flush against his soaking wet chest when I came around to the garden. Squealing loudly from the cold sopping feeling against me, I fumbled to swat him away. “THOMAS! NOT FAIR! LET ME GO!”

Luke disappeared within a snap to post the video, leaving me in the very capable but extremely wet hands of my boyfriend.

Laughing Tom held me firmly to him, soaking my shirt with his, gluing us together. I squirmed, giggling madly, to get away, but not really wanting to escape his stronghold. With a wicked grin, he simply said, “Stop struggling, Abby.”

I wiggled a bit accidentally on purpose, causing Tom to shift just enough to feel what my movements were doing to his body. His unmistakable erection pressed against my belly and I froze, captivated by his reaction to me and his hungry eyes on me. “Make me, Thomas.”

His tongue snuck out to lick his lips as his eyes raked over my lips, considering his options to get me to stop.

Another half-hearted attempt to shake loose from his grip only made him hold me tighter.

“You don’t want me to let you go.”

Without conviction, I argued, “You’re cold.”

“Give me a minute. I’m only just getting started, baby.” His arm anchored me around my waist and I curved away from him. He bowed into me, keeping every inch of him on me.

“You’re getting me all wet.” This wasn’t a complaint anymore, but a statement of fact as I lost myself in his hungry gaze.

“That’s the idea, love… that’s the idea,” he said, claiming my mouth with a smoking hot kiss. His tongue pushed in between my lips and sought out mine. I answered with as much passion and eagerness as he’d shown me the past few hours since he’d been home.

When he ripped his mouth away from my mine to devour my neck in love bites and hungry kisses, I moaned and thrust my hips into his. “I thought,” I sighed heavily, losing my train of thought briefly when he sucked on the sensitive spot along the nape of my neck. Allowing him more access, I craned my neck in offering for his blunt teeth and wet tongue. I splayed my hands along his gorgeously toned pecs, feeling his skin warm beneath the cool material. “I thought… cold water… was meant to… douse the fire.”

“You are the exception to every rule,” he whispered against my skin, breathing heavily across my heaving breasts. My nipples pebbled beneath his green v-neck t-shirt I wore, reaching for him, begging to be played. My heartbeat hammered with the swift seduction at Tom’s very capable hands. “You can warm me with just a glance, my Abby.”

Slipping down my body, straight into my trousers and knickers, Tom’s hands pressed me into him using the amble flesh of my backside to hold onto. As his teeth nipped the upper curve of my breast, he mumbled in a sin-laced low raspy voice, “You are my aphrodisiac.”

Without hesitation, he pulled me down into one of the garden chairs that lived outside during the summer months. I straddled his hips, moving forward as far as possible, grinding my core over his hardened cock against his running shorts. “Thomas,” I gasped between thrusts. “What about the neighbours?” I couldn’t stop now, even if all of Primrose Hill stood in our back garden, watching us.

He lifted his t-shirt that I was wearing up over my head and threw it into the grass, burying his face between my breasts. Licking a warm v from one breast to its twin following along the cut of my bra, he confessed, “They’ll get a fucking eyeful. I need to have you.” To accentuate his point, he gripped my hips and compressed me into his length even more.

I groaned as he left open mouthed kisses over my hardened nipples through the bra I wore. His tongue swirled over each peak, making them tingle and shoot heat straight to my center. Gasping with the feel of teeth against my breast, I grabbed Tom’s hand and guided him into my trousers. “I’m so wet, baby.”

His fingers went deeper into my knickers until he made contact with my slickness as his hooded eyes watched me with rapt attention. With a shallow swipe, he found my clitoris and circled over it once. Craving release, I cried out, needing him to do it again, do it more, do it harder. In the haze of arousal I caressed him through that still wet shirt, loving the feel of wet cotton over hot lithe man. He was so solid and lean; I wanted to run my tongue over each ridge.

I yanked the t-shirt off his body over his head and buried my lips against his ear. I breathed hotly, “I’m so hot for you, my beautiful man.”

Tom growled in the back of my throat, all but threw me to the ground to pounce on me. I made sure the towel was beneath me to avoid getting grass stains in unfortunate places. My man pushed his running shorts down enough to free his engorged cock. Together we pulled my trousers free of my legs as the light drizzle from the overcast day became a proper rain.

Covering me with his body, I reached for him, coiling myself around him with arms and legs. He aligned himself with my channel and with one smooth press, buried himself in my body. We both moaned together as our bodies melted together. There was nothing so special or so good as that initial intimate contact, his body in mine that made us one. We savored it for a long moment, as our eyes locked, his head shielding me from the downpour of rain.

Languidly, Tom withdrew from me and glided back in to the hilt. I leaned up and kissed him with our eyes still open, unable to look away from each other. With a gentle command, I whispered, “Harder.”

That was all my man needed to fuck me as he wanted. I yearned to please him, to pleasure him, to be everything he needed me to be - for him. In those precious moments, beneath the falling London sky, I was. He plundered my center with vigorous thrusts and strangled cries from his throat. I strained to meet every rock of his hips, anxiously seeking that terrific end when my breath held and everything else within me released.

Tom propped himself on his hands, tenting himself over me, the rain against the house, windows and his bare back our symphony. He watched as he claimed me, his cock easily sliding in and out of me. This only encouraged him to go faster, the visual of the act intensifying his sensation.

When his eyes found mine again, he growled, “Let me hear you, Abby!”

Breathlessly, drowning in the euphoric high of my Tom on me, in me and around me, I exhaled, “Amazing! You feel incredible.” I caressed my hands up the length of his chest, outlining each muscle and bone beneath wet heated skin, tweaking his nipples to clutch his massive shoulders. “Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!” I shivered with an impending sweet crisis, surrendering to Tom’s rhythm.

He rocked his hips into me in quick succession, and then slowed, relishing in the tug of my body on his. Using on hand, he caressed down the center of my chest, along my abdomen to where our bodies joined. With his thumb, he found my distended clitoris and pressed upwards, the momentum of his cock into me altering between quick brutal thrusts and long slow rolls.

Curling off the ground into Tom’s chest, I cried out with the spike of pleasure that shot through me. “Thomas!”

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you!” Increasing the pressure on that bundle of nerves, he manipulated it with circle, swipes, and brushes. I writhed under the crescendo of sensation pooling at the very middle of my being. Wordless moans and cries sounded from my throat until I felt my orgasm seize me. “That’s it, baby. Come for me,” Tom whispered against my ear.

That was all I needed to make my climax even more thunderous and earthshattering. He sheathed himself completely inside me, my body rippling and squeezing around him. He stayed still, enjoying every ounce of pleasure my body brought his, reveling in every twitch of my crisis, letting my muscles contract and release around him until it abated. When I came down from my high, Tom was ready to find his end.

With renewed vigor, he pushed and retreated, pressed and withdrew until he was climbing again to his glorious finale. I combed my fingers through his thoroughly drenched full head of hair, drawing his focus on my eyes and my words. “I’m yours, Thomas, my beautiful man. Show me… come for me now.”

“Fuck!”

His thrusts became erratic and he bore down into me as he hit the precipice of his rapture. He roared my name with his completion, his cock twitching with release deep inside me. The man collapsed on top of me, his breath panting in the crook of my neck as he concentrated on the pleasure strumming through his entire being. I felt the warmth of his release coat my insides.

Long moments of his breathing and the rain falling over and around us passed as we remained in the moment. As the high washed away with the rain, I began to giggle under his weight, tracing figure eights on along his back as we laid there. The attack of the giggles came really unexpectedly and the more I tried to stop, the more they consumed me.

Tom lifted to watch my chortles brighten my face pink and the happy high displayed on my features. “What’s so funny, baby?” he chuckled, the contagion of giggles passing from me to him. “Tell me what’s got you giggling.”

I cradled his face between my hands, his smile just as contagious as laughing. “Your silly, silly face… the ice hit you… and, and, and you just…” I attempted an impression but couldn’t handle keeping a straight face long enough to hold it, the very action causing me to laugh even harder.

Tom barked out a laugh as he separated from me and helped me to my feet. He handed me his t-shirt and my trousers to put back on to get back into our flat. “Abby, always taking the mickey… I thought… you should…” With every fleeting thought he had, he laughed harder and couldn’t complete a thought, his words swallowed with another sound of mirth. “Ice… You… test… I should…”

“You were so dramatic about it!” He laughed with me until we were both nearly breathless with it. I threw myself back into his arms after my jeans were fastened back around my waist. Touching his brow, I confessed, “I adore all your silly faces, baby. I do.”

Calming some, but still grinning at me hugely, he kissed the tip of my nose. “I thought you were going to crack some joke about hosing you in the garden.”

I cackled into his chest, nuzzling the small patch of hair in the center. “You can turnip my bulbs anytime, Hiddleston.”

“Lettuce go inside. I’d like to hold your melons in the privacy of our flat.”

I giggled again, nudging his ribs. “This was your idea!”

“Peas, my sprout,” he delivered smoothly with a smirk, poking fun of my size.

“That,” I pointed at him, turning a mock disappointed expression on him. “You’re reaching, Hiddleston.”

“Granted,” he conceded, curling me under his arm and heading towards our flat. “Once you learn how to make ice, I let you get me back.”

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End file.
